


the masks we wear

by prettyaveragewhiteshark



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Knight!Alex, Medieval AU, Slow Burn, Smut, also in this au kara does kill people for the sake of saving other people, as the story progresses i'll be updating tags and relationships, cause it's medieval times and that's just how things go, killer!kara, longfic, princess!lena
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:37:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10494036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyaveragewhiteshark/pseuds/prettyaveragewhiteshark
Summary: Kara is a stable-hand for the royal family. Lena is the princess, next in line to rule the kingdom after her father, Lionel. After Lionel falls ill, plans of treachery and betrayal unfold and Kara and Lena are flung together in a quest to find who is loyal, who is not, and who will die before peace returns to the kingdom again.*Please see chapter 1 notes for important reference info*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For general reference about Kara's vigilante uniform, see this moodboard: http://goldfyshie927.tumblr.com/post/158753998042/medieval-supercorp-au-pictures-are-not-mine  
> I've done my best to build a comprehensive medieval world, but let me know if anything becomes confusing so I can write it more clearly. Thanks, and settle in for a long ride!

Kara’s hands flexed, the movement a half-hearted attempt to ward off the cold of the night air. She knew she needed to relax. It wouldn’t do to be tensed up when the mark made his way here. But the anxiety of the moment, the length of each second ticking slowly by, the righteous rage coursing through her veins, made it difficult for her to unwind her coiled muscles. She kept perfectly still, crouched on the bough with her shoulder pressed to the tree trunk for balance, an arrow nocked and ready for flight. Through the branches above she could see the full moon falling toward the horizon, a hand and a half from setting. If she’d overheard the conversation correctly, and she had, the time was drawing near.

There.

A flicker of torchlight through the trees, moving slow and sure along the path below. It drew closer and she heard a shiver of brush as the two men directly below her moved from their hiding place.

“Steady on,” one of them called in a low voice.

There was a tense moment of quiet. The torchlight stopped a dozen paces short of the tree.

“Steady go,” came the answer from the approaching party.

She could all but hear the relief in the men below her.

“Come on then,” one of them said and the man with the torch approached.

As he came into view, she saw he was bringing someone in tow - a smaller figure, head covered by a burlap sack, feet bound by a short length of cord and hands tied with a rope that he held in one hand. She tasted the iron of fury on the back of her tongue. This was him, the bastard she’d been looking for. The men spoke to each other in low voices, negotiating the terms of their exchange and the pending message they’d send to the city nearby.

“I’ll find a messenger at first light. Her parents will have the ransom to us in no time at all, as much money as they have to spare.”

“And in the meantime,” one of the men chuckled gruffly, “we can enjoy a bit of the spoils before we have to let her go.”

He pulled the sack from the head of the bound figure, revealing a young girl, no older than nine or ten, gagged and shrinking in the torchlight. Her face was tear streaked and she was trembling as the man put his finger beneath her chin to inspect her closely with a leering grin.

“Pretty and rich,” he cooed. “What a shame you’re not a bit older, I might’ve courted you first.”

Kara had heard enough. She stood slowly, drawing her bowstring, sighting down the arrow for a breath, and loosing it into the top of the skull of the man below her. He dropped like a bag of rocks and she leapt from her perch, landing lightly as the other two men whirled in shock. Another arrow through the eye of the man holding the rope. He died without a sound. She loaded a third arrow but hadn’t the time to draw it back before the final man was screaming at her.

“Another move and she dies.”

He’d grabbed the girl, pressing a knife to her throat. Kara ground her teeth, wondering for a moment if she should take the risk and just shoot him. But the blade was tight on the girl’s skin, and there was wildness in the man’s eyes. She dropped her bow and the arrow with it. A grin spread across the man’s face.

“That’s right. Now you stay where you are, or she dies, hear me?”

He began backing away, the light from the fallen torch flickering crazily across his dirty face. Kara watched him go until he had stepped back into the darkness. Then her wrist flicked, arm flashing through the air. She heard the soft thump of the dagger striking his throat, his short gurgle, and he collapsed, dragging the girl down with him.

Kara darted forward, sudden fear gripping her heart. If she’d been too slow... But the girl was alive, struggling to free herself from the dead man’s grip. Kara flung his arm aside, pulling the girl to her feet. She was terrified and she began to struggle in Kara’s arms, muffled sobs coming from her gagged mouth.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Kara said quickly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

But the girl was frantic, shaking her head, trying to pull away.

“Look,” Kara said. She pulled her mask down, uncovering her mouth. The girl saw her face and calmed down a little, still shaking and breathing hard, but not struggling anymore.

“There now,” Kara said softly. “You’re safe with me. I promise.”

The girl nodded. Kara gently cut the gag away from her mouth and the ropes from her hands and ankles. Her eyes swept over the girl’s body, looking for signs of injury.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked.

The girl shook her head, her lips trembling.

“Good,” Kara murmured. “Or they’d have a lot more to answer for.”

She stood, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth and letting out a high pitched whistle. A few moments later, there was the sound of galloping hooves and a horse emerged from the darkened trees. He trotted over, nickering lightly and Kara caught his bridle. She looked down at the girl.

“This is Ballisto. He’s going to help me take you home.”

The sight of the horse seemed to steady the little girl. She looked up at him in silence, her eyes wide but her breaths slowing, the tremors in her limbs dissipating. Kara lifted her into the saddle. The girl gripped the pommel like she’d done it a hundred times before, likely having ridden with her father through the local countryside.

Kara pulled herself up behind her, taking the reins in one hand and pulling her mask back on over her mouth and nose. She wrapped her arm around the little girl’s waist.

“Hold tight, now,” she said.

She glanced down at the bodies of the men below her, feeling a surge of disgust and hatred rising in her throat. Then she spurred Ballisto forward into the early morning dark, leaving behind the dead.

 

* * *

 

She brought the girl back home to the estates of her father, a well-known and respected man in the kingdom. Candles were burning in the windows of the house and Kara could hear the sounds of a woman sobbing. She helped the little girl off the horse then mounted again and watched as she ran to the house, shrieking at the top of her lungs.

“Mother! Father!”

Kara stayed long enough to see that she got back inside safely. She heard the cries of the girl’s parents, shocked and overjoyed to see their daughter safe and sound, then turned Ballisto with a tug of the reins and galloped back the way she had come. The sky on the eastern horizon was beginning to lighten and the air was growing colder, a harbinger of the approaching dawn. Kara sighed as she guided Ballisto back toward the city. These late nights would catch up to her sooner or later. Stopping briefly at a copse of trees just off the main thoroughfare, she changed from her all-black grab to her standard dayclothes, tucking the dark uniform into her saddlebag, then rode for the castle. There’d be no sleep before cockcrow.

She arrived with the sunrise, the pale white glow of first light blanketing the air as Ballisto trotted across the moat and through the front gates, heading obediently to the stables. Kara dismounted and guided him to his stall, patting his neck as she closed the door.

“Well done tonight,” she murmured, rubbing his muzzle vigorously. “You’re a proper gentleman, aren’t you? Wouldn’t go around kidnapping children even if you could, I’m sure.”

The rage was a coal in her chest these days, keeping her warm and furious. What those men would’ve done to that little girl if Kara hadn’t been there... She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of Ballisto’s bristly hair under her fingers.

A wave of weariness washed over her, heavy with lack of sleep and the weight of an entire kingdom’s worries. Even with her heightened abilities, she was dependent upon luck to discover and thwart the plots of evil-doers. She’d just happened to be in the right place at the right time to overhear two men discussing when and where they’d hand off the little girl they’d kidnapped. Kara had been lucky. If she hadn’t been near that particular pub, at that particular time, well. Another young child would have suffered for the sake of man’s depravity.

Kara shook her head, opening her eyes, trying to throw off the heavy thoughts. What mattered is that she had saved the girl, and the world was three evil men lighter this morning. That counted. It made a difference, she told herself.

Ballisto nickered, dropping his head to nudge firmly at her side and Kara chuckled quietly.

“I haven’t had a chance to get my bag yet, greedy. But once I’ve got it, you’ll get as many apples as you’d like, I promise you that.”

She set about making preparations for the day, loading a man-sized wheelbarrow with hay to distribute to the horses’ food troughs, drawing buckets of water from the well for watering the animals. She carried them easily, one in both hand, using the emptiness of the courtyard as an excuse to display her impressive strength with rare recklessness. Soon, though, the rest of the castle began stirring, people and voices making their way across the inner ward and she had to reign herself back in.

She was giving the horses their daily grooming, brushing the coat of a chestnut mare, when three squires entered the stable and began preparing the royal steeds for departure.

“Early morning ride today?” Kara asked one of them.

He nodded. “The king is visiting the people to announce the advent of the trials next month.”

Kara blinked, then nodded and looked away, focusing on running the hard-bristled brush along the grain of the horse’s coat. Of course. The King’s Guard trials. The whirlwind of distractions lately must have kept her from counting the days to the trials as had been her custom every spring since she’d begun her apprenticeship at the castle. The trials were a prestigious affair, bringing the sons and daughters of noble blood from every corner of the kingdom. Watching the competitions, the displays of swordsmanship, strength and battle prowess, was every bit as exciting as it was devastating.

She’d dreamed of serving with the King’s Guard since she was old enough to understand the honor and duty of the position. But her dreams were in vain. Though she carried the name of a respected family, she did not share their blood. She was no noble. And, according to the law, no commoner such as herself would be permitted a place within the royal household. Crushing though it was, she still couldn’t help herself but to watch the trials every year and allow herself for a few moments at a time to imagine that she was one of the competitors in their sleek armor, wielding their gilded swords, earning the love and respect of the royal family and the kingdom.

“You look tired,” a voice said, jarring Kara from her thoughts.

She looked up sharply to see her adopted sister standing there with a small smile on her face as she fastened the strap on one of her bracers. Alex looked as though she had just woken up, her dark eyes a little sleepy.

Kara smiled, laughing off Alex’s observation. “It was a bit of a long night, that’s all.”

Alex’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?” She glanced over her shoulder at the squires who were deeply embroiled in their preparations, then stepped closer to Kara, turning her back toward the squires. “What kind of a long night?” she asked in a low voice.

Kara put her eyes back on her horse, brushing the animal deliberately.

“A thwarted kidnapping is all,” she said, her voice only loud enough for Alex to hear.

“Who…?”

“The Wickshire girl.”

“I mean who took her?”

Kara shrugged, her eyes flickering up to make sure no one was listening in.

“A trio of dead men.”

She saw Alex tilt her chin up. Kara looked over and saw the pride flickering in her eyes.

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No, gratefully. I was there in time to keep them from doing anything to her.”

“Good,” Alex said. “Not bad for a stablehand.”

Kara gave her a narrow look. “Careful, I might get a big head.”

Alex winked, not saying anything more on the subject. She stepped back a pace, running her hand down the chestnut mare’s neck.

“I’ll be accompanying the king into town today.”

“Yes, for the announcement of the trials, I know.”

Alex was quiet, watching Kara. She sighed.

“Kara, I’m sorry.”

Kara shrugged, not meeting her eyes, regretting her brusque tone. None of this was Alex’s fault. Alex had fought hard and more than earned her position on the King’s Guard. Kara had nearly been in tears of pride watching her sister best the burliest of men on the trying field. It had been a great day, but even with all the joy she felt for Alex, Kara hadn’t been able to ignore the sting of jealousy at her victory, a victory that Kara would forever be denied.

“The law is the law,” she said simply.

Kara looked up at her sister and saw genuine sadness in her eyes. She forced a small smile, one shoulder lifting slightly.

“It’s alright, this is just the way things are.”

There were shouts from the courtyard. The squires had left the stable with their horses. The royal family was ready to depart. Alex touched Kara’s cheek and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You’d be the best of us all,” she said, then she turned and left the stable.

Kara followed her slowly, standing at the door of the stables, watching as Alex swung onto her midnight steed. The king and his wife sat on their stately charges. Behind them, on her own bay stallion, sat their daughter, the princess. She was talking with her squire as he handed her the reins. Something he said made her smile brightly and she nodded, looking up. For a moment, her gaze fell on Kara, her smile still in place, her green eyes bright and her cheeks rosy, and for a moment, Kara’s heart stuttered and she forgot her disappointment and weariness. Then princess Lena looked away as the procession rode from the courtyard, led by the King’s Guard and followed by the royal family and their attendants.

Kara watched them go, leaning against the stable wall for a long while after the gates had closed behind them.

 

* * *

 

The morning air was sweet and clear. Springtime had come at last, burning away the last vestiges of winter cold on the rays of the golden sun. As they rode, Lena watched the countryside change from forest to fields to villages, basking in the way it had all come alive at last. Birds sang, flitting through the surrounding trees. Herds of cattle grazed on young green grass. The sound of voices ringing across village marketplaces, the shrieks and shouts of children as they played, was like music.

They stopped in townships along the way to announce the coming trials. Typically a kingdom-wide message like this would be spread by town criers and other such messengers. But her father had a particular fondness for the trials and the revelry they brought, and so had insisted upon being the one to spread the word yearly. Besides, he had reasoned with a laugh in his voice, the people ought to see their king more than once every war.

The people flocked to their little procession, waving and calling greetings. Lena waved back with her father, accepting the small flowers and embroidered kerchiefs that were tossed to her, while the Queen sat stiffly and gave a tight smile that never reached her eyes.

They stopped to rest and eat around midday before taking up the journey once more as the sun made its way slowly down from the peak of the sky. Lena rode alongside her father. Queen Lillian took the lead, riding just behind the King’s Guard, well out of earshot of Lena and the king.

“The people love you, Lena,” her father said. “More so, I wager, than they even care for me.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, father,” she quipped. The king chuckled, and Lena betrayed herself with a smile. “Besides, they’ve nothing to dislike me for. You’re the one making all the laws. Once I become ruler, I hardly think they’ll be quite so fond of me.”

“You underestimate yourself, child.”

Lena shrugged. “Perhaps. But it’ll be many years yet before we have the chance to find out. And I’ll need all of them to prepare myself to fill your massive boots.”

The king lifted his leg slightly, glancing down at his foot. “They aren’t really so monstrous, are they?”

Lena laughed. “You know what I mean, father.”

He chuckled, nodding. “But you’ll be well equipped to rule this place when the time comes. Once you’re married to a fine gentleman to be your crown prince, you’ll have all the support you need. And your advisors, if you choose them wisely, will serve you well.”

Lena nodded, not deigning to rebut her father’s offhanded comment about marriage to a man. That was a conversation for another time.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, riding quietly side-by-side. When the next township came into view, an idea came to Lena.

“Father, what if I made the next announcement? Give the people a chance to hear my voice, something more young and fresh than the bellow of an old man.”

She turned to look at him, an impish grin on her face. But her smile vanished as her gaze fell upon the king. He was sitting rigidly in the saddle, the reins in his grasp but his hands gripping the pommel for dear life. His skin was gray, his brow shot through with tension and bulging veins.

“Father?” Lena said, pulling her own reins to get closer to him. She touched his arm. “Father, what’s wrong?”

He grunted, shaking his head, trying to wave her off. “Nothing...nothing,” he gasped. “Just a - bit of pain…”

He let out a strangled groan, a tremor shaking his frame as he grabbed his stomach with one hand.

“Father!” Lena cried. Her voice caught the attention of the guards ahead. They turned quickly, galloping back. Lena held one of his arms, her other hand on his chest, worried that he would collapse and fall from his saddle at any moment.

“Your Majesty, what happened?” Guardian Danvers asked, her voice worried and low as she took hold of the king’s other arm.

The king didn’t answer. He couldn’t, Lena could tell by the way he seemed to be struggling for breath.

“I don’t know,” she said frantically. “He was fine just an hour ago, and now this.”

The procession had halted. The Queen was close by on her steed, her hand over her mouth.

Guardian Danvers was shouting. “You two, ride! Get the physician from the town and bring a carriage immediately.”

Two of the knights set off in a cloud of dust.

“The king needs to go back to the castle,” the Queen said. She turned to an attendant. “Send word to the remaining towns about the trials. Say nothing of the king’s condition until we know more.”

Lena’s eyes were locked on her father, her hands holding him steady as he struggled through spasms of pain. She was praying, harder than she’d ever prayed before, begging Rao and whoever else dwelt among the stars to save her father, to keep him with her.

“Don’t leave me, father,” she was murmuring, fear and worry and tears clouding her vision. “Stay with me. The kingdom needs you still. I need you still.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Kara stood outside the stables by the hitching posts, sliding her hand down the haunches of a sable courser.

“Before you try taking the hoof, keep your hand on her like this. Otherwise she’ll scare and you’ll take a kick that’ll have you in the sick bay for months if it doesn’t kill you.”

The three new stable boys nodded silently. She gripped the horse’s hock gently, lifting the hoof.

“There, see? She’s got a rock lodged in the hoof, that’s why she was limping. So I’m going to pry it out, using the hook like this.”

The boys watched closely and quietly. Once the rock had come free, Kara dropped the horse’s leg. The courser shifted her weight, standing easily on the hoof in question. Kara patted her flank.

“That’s better, now, isn’t it, Ros?” She turned to the boys. “Now which of you wants to try?”

Before anyone could volunteer Kara heard someone call to her.

“Stablemaster!”

Kara looked over. The Captain of the King’s Guard was striding across the courtyard. He gestured to Kara. “A word, please.”

“Another time, then, boys,” Kara told the stablehands. “Go on, the stalls still need mucking.”

The boys groaned but Kara paid them no mind, heading over to meet the Captain halfway. He stopped in front of her, placing one hand on his sword hilt as was his habit. Kara gave him a smile.

“Fine day, isn’t it, sir?”

He seemed uninterested in small talk. “I heard this morning that Spectre was at work again last night.”

Kara tilted her head, arms crossing. “Did you?”

“Apparently she killed three of the more dangerous men in the ransoming network.”

Kara’s eyebrows went up slightly. This was news to her. “Did she?”

The Captain’s voice dropped, quiet enough that only Kara could hear. “If it’s a ‘thank you’ you’re after, you’re talking to the wrong man.”

Kara shook her head. “All I’m after is saving innocents from the works of evil men. Nothing more. I thought you’d know that by now, Hank.”

Hank grunted, staring at her thoughtfully for a moment. Then he nodded, looking away and squinting. “Well, Spectre’s doing the work of a dozen of my men, that much is certain. It’s a shame she doesn’t deign to offer her services to the royal house directly.”

“She couldn’t even if she wanted to, I’m sure,” Kara rebutted.

Hank opened his mouth to respond when there was a clamor of shouts across the ward.

“Open the gates! Open the gates! It’s the king!”

They both turned toward the noise. Kara’s brows met in confusion. The king? He usually never came back from his rounds in the kingdom until at least the next day, and that would be a short trip by his usual standards.

Kara heard the gates thunder open, followed the sound of galloping hooves and the procession burst through. Alex was at their head, flanked by the other King’s Guards and followed quickly by a carriage and an attendant towing three horses along on their leads. Kara recognized the riderless horses immediately as the royal chargers, which meant the king, queen and princess were inside the carriage.

Kara ran to where Alex was dismounting, Hank close behind her. Attendants were opening the carriage and Kara saw movement inside before Alex’s horse blocked her view. Kara caught her sister’s arm.

“What’s wrong, Alex? What happened?”

Alex’s brow was creased and slicked with sweat from the hard ride. She shook her head.

“The king is sick, that’s all I know.”

“Sick? With what?”

“I don’t know, Kara. He just...we were riding and suddenly he was in pain and looked near death.”

Kara looked across to the carriage. The queen and princess had disembarked and a stretcher was brought to the carriage door. Princess Lena was hovering near the door, her cheeks streaked with tears, trying to stay out of the attendants’ way but keeping as close to her father as she could. When they pulled the king from the carriage, Kara’s heart skipped a beat. His normally healthy complexion was gone, replaced by a pale gray pallor, and his face twisted in pain as he clutched at his stomach.

Alex squeezed Kara’s arm, the followed Hank as he jogged after the king being hurried through the doors of the castle.

Kara felt a weight in her chest like an anchor. She turned to retrieve water for the horses pulling the carriage. Their flanks were heaving and slick with sweat from their mad run from halfway across the kingdom. As they drank deeply from the water trough, Kara unhitched the carriage yoke and began rubbing them down with a soaking rag.

Worry sat on her back like a nightmarish demon. Alex was right; the king had looked near death. But how? He was known the kingdom over for being hale and hearty, leading his armies into battle and enduring the physical hardship of living in a war zone alongside the soldiers. Many joked that King Lionel would live another hundred years, at the least. Perhaps he had eaten something sour, Kara reasoned. But she’d seen those ill with bad food and none had looked so pained as the king had. Her heart trembled and she fought the tears that rose to her eyes.

He was a good man. He’d been responsible for the peace in the kingdom for the last ten years, an unheard of stretch without war the known world over. He had also allowed Kara to work for the royal house even though she was, to his knowledge, a bastard. That was the story - she was the ill-begotten child of one of Jeremiah Danvers’ lovers. It was more desirable than the truth, but still looked down upon in this and every kingdom. But King Lionel had been kind, more generous than she had deserved, giving her a way to earn her keep where no one else would.

If he died, he would be succeeded by his daughter Lena. Kara didn’t know her well. They had interacted briefly in the time Kara had been a ward of the castle, but Kara knew her to be kind enough. She took after her father in that regard. But Lena was young, and unmarried, and if she took the throne it would more than likely be her mother, queen Lillian, pulling the strings. And Lillian was known less for her kindness and more for her heart of stone. She was notorious for assisting the law which banned anyone not of noble blood to compete for the King’s Guard or even become a knight. Less famously, Kara knew her for her curled mouth of contempt and scorn when the king granted Kara the boon of working as a castle stablehand. Kara felt sure that if the king died and Lillian took the reins, she’d be cast out within the hour.

She shook off the thoughts. The king wasn’t dead, and it would do no one, least of all her, any good to assume the worst. Kara cast a glance toward the east wing of the castle, where she knew the king had been taken, then turned away and set off to get a bale of hay for the weary horses.

 

* * *

 

The king’s chamber was chaos, the attendants’ worried chatter overlapping with the physician’s directions of how to position the king on his bed, the clank of armor from the Guardians, her mother speaking to her but no words registering. Lena’s composure was frayed but all she could see was her father, his agonized face, the roses gone from his cheeks, laying still and quiet amidst the clamor of everything and everyone else.

Someone was pulling at her arm, moving her across the room.

“Leave now, dear,” her mother was telling her. “Give your father some space, I’ll send someone for you when he’s feeling better.”

Lena balked, jerking from her mother’s grip. Her confused and frightened haze faded for a moment. She straightened.

“Out! Everyone out of this room!”

There was a sudden quiet, all eyes on her except the physician who was bent over the king, peering into his eyes and mouth.

“If you’re not the physician or his helper, get out,” Lena said, her voice quiet and firm though she felt her hands trembling.

The room emptied.

“You should leave as well, sweet,” Lillian said.

Lena looked into her eyes, barely concealing the snarl that tugged at her lips.

“He is my father. I’m staying.”

Her mother didn’t argue.

Lena took a stool from the end of the bed, pulling it around to sit far enough away that she didn’t disturb the physician, but close enough that she could see her father’s face. She sat in silence, her hands clasped in her lap, watching and waiting. The physician moved almost too slowly to bear, but Lena stayed quiet, allowing him to do his work. He stripped off her father’s clothes, leaving him in breeches and a long undershirt. He listened to his heart and stomach through a brass horn, quietly instructed his assistant to apply leeches to his forearm, mixed a foul smelling elixir in a small bowl.

The physician looked at Lena, holding the bowl out to her. “He needs to drink this, Highness. For the pain.”

Lena took the bowl, approaching the bed as the physician lifted the king’s head so he wouldn’t choke on the elixir. Lena tipped it to his lips. The king sputtered, gagging at first.

“Please, father,” Lena said. “This will help. Please drink it.”

He looked up at her, his eyes hazy with pain, and she wondered if he could see her at all. But he drank, and when it was gone he closed his eyes and lay back with a sigh, the knots in his forehead disappearing.

Lena looked up at the physician, wondering for a moment if he’d just killed her father.

“He’s asleep, Highness. He isn’t in any pain.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I can’t say. I must study his humours, Highness. I will work quickly, I assure you.”

Lena’s eyes were fixed on her father’s face. “Be sure you do.”

He bowed, gathered up his instruments and myriad vials, and left the room, his assistants trailing behind him. There was a moment of ringing silence, the eye of the hurricane. Lena glanced over at her mother. Lillian was staring at the king, her eyes shining strangely, her mouth pressed in a thin line. Lena turned away and pulled her stool closer to the bedside, slipping her hand beneath her father’s. She studied his face. His skin was still pale but his expression was peaceful, his breathing even. Lena touched his cheek softly with the back of her hand.

“You should let him rest,” her mother said.

Lena didn’t look at her. “He’s resting just fine with me here.”

“Lena…”

Lena turned her head then, fixing her mother in her gaze.

“You cannot move me,” she said, her voice barely controlled. “I warn you not to try.”

Lillian’s nostrils flared. “I’ll not accept such insolence from you.”

Lena rose, then, her hand never leaving the king’s.

“He is my father. I will not leave his side.”

Lillian looked furious. Her mouth twitched, as if she was fighting words that threatened to spill forth.

“Guard!” Lena cried suddenly. Lillian took a step back, her eyes darting to the chamber door as the Captain of the Guard and Guardian Danvers entered.

“Your Highness?” the captain said, his voice gravelly.

“Find my handmaid. Tell her to bring my bedclothes and affects. I’ll be staying in my father’s chambers until he’s well again.”

The guards seemed to sense the tension in the room. Danvers’ eyes darted between Lena and the queen, her hand on the hilt of her sword. But the Captain nodded, bowing slightly.

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

They left the room, leaving the door open behind them.

“That will be all, mother,” Lena said quietly, taking her place on the stool again, not giving Lillian another look.

She saw Lillian hesitate, battling something internally, before she turned and swept silently from the room.

Lena took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting to keep her tears from spilling over. Her father’s face was still, unmoved by the near row between his wife and daughter. Lena ran her fingers across the veins in the back of his hand. They shook like leaves in a gale and she shut her eyes, holding tight to her father’s hand. A tear slipped down her cheek and she bowed her head slowly, pressing her forehead to the king’s arm.

“I’m scared,” she whispered. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

He was silent. Lena felt him slipping further from her, and the farther he went the greater loomed the weight of an entire kingdom, ready to fall upon her shoulders. She’d known the crown would one day sit upon her brow, but not so soon. There were years and years she needed still to grow, to learn, to establish herself in the royal house with those whom she trusted at her side. She was still alone here, exposed and inexperienced, and she felt dread and fear creeping in on her as slowly and inexorably as nightfall.

 

* * *

 

“Rao, yes, Kara, yes.”

Ava’s voice sounded like a prayer, full of heat, and Kara groaned, biting at her neck, her hand working furiously between her legs. She had Ava pressed between her body and the wall, her legs wrapped tightly around Kara’s waist. Kara leaned up and caught Ava’s mouth in a kiss, tasting her muffled whines, drawing them out with a curve of her fingers.

“Say it again,” she said roughly against her lips. “Say my name.”

“Kara,” Ava moaned, too far gone to play coy. “Kara, please.”

Her body was beginning to tremble in that familiar way, pre-climax spasms tearing up her spine. Her eyes clenched shut, her mouth flung open, her voice a fountain of heady, unintelligible sounds. Kara thrust hard into her, palm rubbing roughly against her clit the way she liked. She dropped her head, catching a nipple in her mouth, sucking and swiping her tongue across the nub. Ava’s fingers tightened in her hair as she stiffened, every muscle locking up. Then, with a keening cry and Kara’s name on her lips, she came, arching back, shaking and cursing.

Kara held her tightly, face buried in her chest, waiting for her to ride the orgasm out, pumping her fingers into her a few times for good measure. Ava collapsed over her shoulder, panting, pressing her face to Kara’s neck.

“Fuck.”

Kara allowed herself a small smile, running her hand up Ava’s back as she leaned away from the wall and turned, laying Ava on her bed gently and herself down over her. Ava was grinning, her mouth still open, her eyes only just opening as she recovered. Kara kissed her cheek.

“Alright, love?”

“That’s a word you could use,” Ava said playfully.

She kissed Kara deeply, a silent token of thanks. When their lips parted Ava was watching Kara’s face carefully, running a finger across her cheek. Kara didn’t meet her eyes and pushed herself upright, rolling off the bed and pulling on her linen shirt. She heard Ava sit up on the bed. There was a silence as Kara dressed.

“Something’s on your mind,” Ava said then. It wasn’t a question.

Kara didn’t respond, sitting on the mattress and pulling her boots on. Ava’s hand touched her back.

“I could taste it the moment you got here, Kara,” she said quietly. “I’m good for more than a drink and a fuck, you know.”

Kara hesitated, considering for a moment the good it could do to have someone outside the royal house know of her troubles. But the hour was growing late. She shook her head, standing, taking Ava’s face in her hands, looking into her hazel eyes. She kissed her, stroking a gentle pattern across her dark brown skin with her thumb.

“There’s someone waiting for me,” she murmured. “Another time, perhaps.”

Ava smiled softly, nodded, and Kara left, closing the door quietly behind her.

She rode hard through the inky night to the meeting place, clothed in her black uniform. Beneath her, Ros’s pace was steady and even and wickedly fast. The animal had certainly been worth the King’s coin; Kara’d never ridden a courser of equal skill.

Kara slowed her to an even trot as the inn came into view, riding around the back of the building as had been agreed upon. Her contact already waited at the well, cloaked in shadow.

Kara dismounted, keeping Ros’s reins in her hand.

“I recognize the virtue of your renown, Spectre, but I still do not appreciate being kept waiting.”

“My apologies,” Kara returned. “I came as quickly as I could.”

“I didn’t realize you’d adopted the habit of wearing such pungent perfume,” the woman said drily.

Kara couldn’t answer and she was grateful for the cover of darkness that masked the blush she felt rising in her cheeks.

“No matter,” the woman said, dismissing the issue. “I hope you’re ready to spill a bit of blood.”

“Always, and today more so than usual.”

“Oh, has someone caught the ire of the Spectre?” The woman sounded more sarcastic than intrigued.

Kara bristled slightly, half a moment from telling the woman to mind her own business. But she caught herself, remembering just who it was she was speaking to.

“More like the universe may have a great debt to repay me soon.”

“I’m sure the universe is trembling at the prospect,” the woman said, her voice bored.

Kara’s eyes narrowed but she dismissed the insult.

“What do you have for me?”

“Another emissary arrived from Daxam last week. I have very good reason to believe he may be attempting some sort of subterfuge, but the details aren’t important to me. I need him dead.”

“Simple enough,” Kara said. “Where can I find him?”

The woman threw off her hood. The moonlight shone on her short blonde hair, making her keen eyes glitter. She lifted her eyebrows, looking pointedly up at a faintly glowing window on the inn’s second floor.

Kara dipped her head, silently berating herself for not thinking of that earlier.

“Oh, and Spectre,” the woman said, stopping her as she prepared herself to ascend the outside of the building. “I won’t be here when you’re finished. Find me tomorrow, midday.”

“Of course, Lady Grant,” Kara acknowledged.

Catelyn Grant mounted her horse smoothly, giving Kara a final piercing look before turning her steed and riding into the dark. Kara didn’t watch her go, instead turning and vaulting onto an overhanging ledge on the inn’s outer wall. Above her, a candle flickered in the window of a man who didn’t know death was approaching him from below.


	3. Chapter 3

Days passed. Lena stayed by the king’s bedside, embroidering and reading to pass the time. The physician was at a loss. His extensive studying of the king’s humours had availed no answers, leaving them with only prayer and hope and the occasional sleeping elixir when the king’s pain became too much for him to bear. Lena found small comfort in the fact that he seemed to be doing no worse than the first day he had fallen ill. There were even times where he would stay awake and listen while she read to him from his favorite books. But his eyes were always hazy, as if he were only there in body while his mind wandered far away.

Restful sleep was a distant friend to Lena. Though Jess had set up a makeshift bed in the chamber, Lena often fell asleep in her chair, napping fitfully until she jolted awake, fearful that she had left her father alone for too long and he was suffering. She passed the long hours of the night watching her father sleep, watching his chest rise and fall, alert for any signs of pain. He would not die, she determined, as long as she were awake to watch him.

Where she looked after her father, Jess looked after her. She kept Lena company, keeping her talking during the long hours of embroidery while the king slept. They spoke of the coming King’s Guard trials, Lena telling which of the particular challenges was her favorite to watch, Jess giggling a little as she hoped aloud to catch the eye of a strapping young knight. Lena smiled silently at that, but her eyes stayed on her needlework. 

Even when Lena insisted she wasn’t hungry, Jess was there to ensure she ate a satisfactory amount of whatever meal had been delivered to the room that day.  

“Your father needs you to eat. You can’t care for him if you don’t care for yourself.”

Lena would eat without protest after that. 

One morning, a week after the king had fallen ill, Lena was keeping watch as he slept. There was a voice at the door. 

“Lena.”

Her mother. Lillian had hardly visited the king since he had become bedridden, insisting that Lena was taking care of him well enough and there were matters of the state she had to tend to in his absence. Jess had insisted that Lena attend at least one of the court sessions, but she had been so preoccupied thinking about her father that Lillian was the one who did all the speaking with the nobles. Lena hated being there with her. She sat in the king’s throne like she’d done it her whole life, as if she’d forgotten completely about her ailing husband and his plight. But she stood now in the doorway, beckoning to her daughter. 

Perhaps, Lena thought, she’d abandoned the court in a fit of uncharacteristic compassion, come to see to Lena’s wellbeing and the king’s. The thought was a kind one, however ridiculous it might have been. 

Lena glanced across the chamber to Jess. 

“Keep an eye on him,” she said. “I want to know if he wakes or if anything changes.”

Lena followed her mother out the chamber doors and down the hallway into a secluded alcove. Lillian put her hand on Lena’s shoulder in what she must have thought was a sympathetic gesture. 

“Lena, my sweet, I’m so sorry for how difficult this has been for you.”

Lena fought the urge to shrug her hand off.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” she said. “Father is strong. I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

“Yes,” her mother said. “I pray to Rao that you’re right about that. However, I believe it would be wise if we begin preparations in case the worst occurs.”

The words sank in slowly. Lena could taste iron. “The worst?”

“It would hardly do for the royal family be rushing around like mad chickens in the event of the king’s death. We should be prepared.”

Lena stepped back. Her mother’s hand fell from her shoulder.

“Be prepared? You mean plan my father’s funeral before he’s even died.”

“Keep your voice down, Lena. I only meant…”

“You only meant to bury him before his heart’s stopped,” Lena snapped, not caring that her voice was echoing cavernously off the stone walls. “He’s not dead, mother. He is still alive and so long as he stays that way you risk treason trying to plan the funeral of a living king.”

Lillian drew herself up to her considerable height, her eyes flashing.

“Do not forget yourself, child. I am your mother.”

Lena felt a snarl crawl across her mouth. There was a rushing in her ears. The exhaustion of being her father’s caretaker, the fear of watching him teeter on the brink of life and death that first day and every day since, the heaviness of the looming crown, the kingdom that sat ready to fall on her unready shoulders, the fathomless ocean of sadness that threatened to drown her when she thought of losing her beloved father, her best friend, the only human in the world she trusted completely - everything was pouring through her, raging to the surface unchecked, a firestorm in her veins. Her shoulders pressed back, her chin lifting as she exerted every ounce of control she possessed.

“Do not forget yourself,  _ mother _ ,” she seethed. “I am your future Queen.”

Lillian blinked and stepped back, her expression shocked as if she’d been slapped.

Lena turned on her heel and stormed back down the hallway to the king’s chamber, leaving her mother standing stunned and silent in her wake. She stopped before she reached the door to her father’s chamber. She drew a deep breath, pressing the flat of her palm to the cold stone wall to steady herself. Her other hand trembled as she lifted it to her eyes, trying to collect herself. Her father needed her. She could not afford to lose her head. Not now. 

Someone touched her hand and she jumped, startled, eyes snapping open. 

Jess recoiled, curtsying deeply. “Forgive me, m’lady. It’s the king. He’s awake. He’s asking for you.”

Lena felt the shock hit her gut like ice, radiating to her limbs and her head, quenching the furious flames. She stared at Jess, mouth open, trying to process her words. Jess took her hand, pulling her into the chambers. Lena came to herself then and she all but ran to her father’s side. His eyes were open and more clear than she’d seen since he’d fallen ill. She clutched at his hand, kneeling beside the bed, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“Father,” she said. “You’re awake.”

He smiled weakly, touching her face with the back of his hand. 

“So it would seem, my heart.”

“Are you alright? Are you in pain?”

“I feel bruised through and through, but that’s all.”

Lena let out a weak, relieved laugh. She dropped her head, pressing the king’s palm to her forehead. 

“I thought you were lost to me,” she murmured, tears choking her throat. 

“Not just yet, my flower. You won’t be rid of me that easily.”

The physician examined the king, concluding that he had fallen under an unnamed, mysterious illness and must be on the mend. He was weak, though, and frail. The physician said he might need another few weeks of recovery without too much strain or kingly duties, such a toll the illness had taken on his body. Lillian came in then, overflowing with joy at seeing the king awake. She kissed him tenderly, scolding him for giving everyone such a terrible scare. Lena watched her closely, but Lillian never met her eyes. 

The next few days were touch and go. Some days the king was bright eyed, sitting up and perusing important documents and feeding himself. Others, he would be overcome with malaise and Lena would help him sip at broth until he asked for the sleeping remedy to ease the pain. But more than anything, Lena saw his health rising, the color coming back into his cheeks, and she allowed herself to hope against reason that maybe this time everything would be alright.

 

* * *

 

The man was an easy catch, fleeing on foot through the field with only a few moments’ head start ahead of Kara. She spurred Gallus to an easy canter, gaining on the hapless thief. A flick of her wrist and a bola wrapped around his legs, binding his calves together and bringing him to the ground in a dusty heap. He struggled as she dismounted easily, turning him over with a boot to the shoulder, pressing her knife to this trembling throat and relieving him of the pilfered goods. She hefted the bag, peering inside, a foot planted on his chest to ensure he didn’t make any sudden escapes. 

“A few loaves and apples?” she said boredly, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Surely you could’ve taken something a little more exciting?”

The man looked near tears, still panting from his sprint.

“F-for my family,” he quivered. “My children need to eat.”

“And the king’s generosity wasn’t good enough for you?” Kara said, gripping his collar and hauling him roughly to his feet. She bound his hands deftly. 

“The wagons have stopped coming,” he said helplessly. Kara paused, glancing up at him sharply. “I don’t know what’s happened,” he continued. “No one does. But the poor houses and markets haven’t recieved produce wagons in weeks.”

“Are you sure?” Kara questioned, serious now.

“Sure as the weeping of my daughters,” the man said. He dropped suddenly, startling Kara, but he wasn’t making an attack. He was on his knees, his bound hands gripping hers, tears on his cheeks now. “Please, miss, don’t take me to the stocks. They’ll kill me. And if I’m dead, sure as sunrise my family won’t last another week.”

Kara’s eyebrows met. “I hardly think they’ll serve you a death penalty for petty theft.”

“They will,” he said. He seemed sure. “They’re doing worse for less now. Men and women both, whipped, tortured in the squares for giving lip to king’s guard. I don’t know why, but I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Please. Have mercy.”

Kara stared at him, but her mind was far away, lost in confusion. No food wagons? Executions and torturings for missteps and petty crimes? She’d heard whisperings but she merely thought they were the product of gossiping lips and fearful minds. She thought of the king. Had he died already? Was Lena passing laws thick with the stench of cruelty so soon? But Kara would’ve heard of his passing, she was positive. 

“Please,” the man said again, jarring Kara from her thoughts.

She pulled him to his feet, untying his hands and giving him back the bag of food. 

“Go,” she said. “I’ll pay the merchant what you owe him.”

He nodded, looking stunned at his dumb luck, then turned and took off running. Kara mounted Gallus and turned him back toward the township. She found the merchant, tossing him a few coins for the food, then rode to the outskirts of town, pulling up short when she arrived at a great stone house. The structure was just short of a small castle, towering above the typical cottage that populated most cities and villages. The wide double doors were guarded by two hired men, dressed in leather armor with shining broadswords hanging at their sides. One of them stepped forward as Kara approached.

“What’s your business here?” he demanded, drawing his weapon. 

Kara was unfazed. She ignored him, pulling a small sphere from a saddlebag, twisting it along a seam down the middle and tossing it on the ground at the men’s feet. A white, powdery smoke streamed forward and the men began coughing, staggering almost immediately and collapsing to the ground within moments. Kara dismounted, tying Gallus to a nearby tree and holding her breath as she walked through the smoke and threw open the front doors. 

She strode through the entrance hall, ignoring the stares of servants and the shouts as she took a broad, winding set of stairs to the upper level of the house. She heard a familiar bored sigh through the walls and followed the sound down a few twisting hallways, shouldering open a door to find Lady Cat Grant standing beside a fine oak desk, staring out the nearby window and down at the front courtyard. 

“You didn’t kill them, did you?” Lady Grant said disinterestedly, not looking up. 

“They’ll live. Can’t speak to how their heads will feel when they wake, but I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Lady Grant’s lifted her gaze expectantly to Kara, folding her arms slowly. She scanned Kara from head to toe without moving her head and Kara felt distinctly exposed though she knew she was well disguised.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Lady Grant asked.

“It’s come to my knowledge that there’s been a distinct lack of food wagons from the castle and a sudden upswing in violent punishments for non-violent crimes. Do you know anything about that?”

“Ah, yes. Such a delightful turn of events,” Cat replied, her upper lip curling slightly. She eyed Kara curiously. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of this sooner.”

Kara tilted her chin up, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“I keep busy tracking down more significant criminals, and most of them don’t spend time with innocent commoners in the townships.”

Lady Grant lifted her eyebrows in a shrug, tilting her head. “True enough.”

“But surely you’ve been informed of it since day one.”

“I have.”

“Then why didn’t you come to me with it?”

Lady Grant leveled her with a stare. “It’s as you said. You’ve been busy with more significant criminals, doing exactly what I need you doing - eliminating far greater threats than a few missing loaves of the king’s bread.”

Kara crossed her arms. “Tell me what’s been going on. Surely the king wouldn’t starve and punish his people like this. Unless he’s died and I’ve been woefully uninformed, which is unlikely.”

“The king lives still,” Cat confirmed. “No new laws have been passed either. But I imagine there have been some unofficial discussions in the throne room during the king’s unfortunate absence.”

Kara turned the words over in her head.  

“Lena?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” Cat said, waving her hand. “The crown princess has been spending her time at the king’s side tirelessly, if my sources are correct. No, Lillian, I believe, would be far more suited to punishing the people for their wicked crime.”

“Crime?” Kara asked incredulously. “What, simple thievery and not bowing and scraping for the royal guards?”

Cat’s eyes narrowed slightly in a humorless smile. “Of course not. No, loving the king is quite sufficient to earn her wrath.”

Kara’s brows met. “But why?”

Cat unfolded her arms, taking a few slow steps toward Kara, stopping close enough that Kara could smell her distinct perfume. She had to fight to keep her eye contact from wavering as she felt Lady Grant’s gaze pierce her core. 

“That,” Lady Grant murmured, “is a story for another time, dear Spectre. I believe you have work to do. Innocents to save from executions and floggings, hm?”

Kara’s curiosity tugged at her, nearly causing her to demand the truth from Lady Grant. But she was right - there was work to do. Kara nodded slowly, dropping her gaze and bowing. She turned, taking a few quick strides into the hallway and vaulting through the open window to climb dexterously down the outer walls.

The guards on the ground were barely beginning to stir as she mounted Gallus. She glanced up at the high window where Lady Grant stood watching her. Their eyes met for a long moment. Then, with questions stirring in a flurry through her mind, she turned and rode toward the town square. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting so far! For information on helping me post future updates, please get in touch with me on tumblr at prettyaveragewhiteshark!


	4. Chapter 4

The king’s health improved steadily. Lena kept her watch at his side, hushing him gently whenever he insisted that she was wasting entirely too much time on him and that she needed to get some fresh air. 

“I will when you do,” she said gently. “But I’m not taking my eyes off you until you’re fully well again.”

“Stubborn girl,” he’d say gruffly, but he couldn’t hide the glint of humor in his eye. 

“I come by it honestly then, don’t I?” she’d reply with a smile. 

One morning she woke to find him sitting up in bed, staring across the room and out the window. As Lena stirred, he held his hand out to her. 

“Help me up. It’s time you and I get that fresh air.”

She insisted upon calling the physician first, having him clear the king for physical activity outdoors. As the man inspected the king, examining his ears, mouth and chest, the king huffed. 

“I don’t want to run a fox hunt, for Rao’s sake. I should think a stroll through my own courtyard is hardly outside the realm of the king’s permissions.”

Lena raised an eyebrow at him, pulling on a shawl. “You’re the only one to blame, father. Shouldn’t have raised such a careful daughter and then gone and nearly died on her watch.”

He had no reply to that. 

The day was beautiful, blue skies dotted with clouds, grass still lightly dewed in the morning cool. Lena held her father’s arm as they strolled slowly around the castle grounds. She glanced up at his face, relief still swelling in her chest at the sight of his face, pink and healthful and smiling in the sun. They spoke of easy things, of the weather and if the harvest would be good this year. She told him that he’d missed very little in his short span of absence, joking that the kingdom seemed to have held its breath while waiting for his recovery, causing hardly any trouble at all during those few weeks. 

“And your mother?” he asked. 

Lena glanced up at him. He wasn’t watching her, seeming to concentrate on his steady steps. 

“What of her?”

“How was she while I was, ah, away?”

Lena thought of the incident in the hallway a few days ago, of Lillian’s plans for the king’s funeral. She thought of the coldness in her eyes, of her own rage and fear. Of how Lillian had hardly come to see the king in the weeks he was ill, choosing instead to commune with his counselors and statesmen in the throne room, wielding power that did not belong to her. She thought of confiding in her father, telling him of the unease she’d felt watching Lillian sit on the throne, listening to her speak like a sovereign ruler while darkness glinted in her eyes. 

“She was worried,” Lena lied. “She sat with me most days, only leaving when there were vital matters for her to attend to.”

The king nodded quietly. Lena wondered if he sensed her falseness. She wondered if he could afford to say so even if he did. 

“And what of you, my daughter?”

Lena closed her eyes briefly, her grip on his arm tightening a little. No one had asked about her wellbeing since the king had fallen ill and his question brought on a wave of emotion so sudden, so strong, she felt momentarily dizzy. She had not wept since the first night and now it felt like a rushing flood behind her eyes. 

“I’ve been fine,” she said, managing to keep the tears from her voice. 

The king stopped short, turning to her and taking her face in his hands. She blinked hard, looking into his calm green eyes, holding tightly to his wrists. 

“Lena,” he said. 

She sobbed then, feeling her expression crumple, and the king pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She held onto the back of his robes and cried, all the worry and fear and anger and sadness and exhaustion pouring from her in a torrent. She felt as much as heard the familiar rumble of his voice in his chest as he soothed her and she felt like a child again, weeping in her father’s strong arms after waking from a horrible nightmare. 

“I thought I had lost you,” she managed between sobs. “I was so scared. I was so lonely.”

“Oh, my daughter,” he said. “Always taking the weight of the world upon your own shoulders. I’m here now. I shan’t leave you.” He held her tighter, bowing his head to murmur directly into her ear. “Hear me, flower? I’ll not leave you again.”

Lena nodded into his chest, but she did not relinquish her grasp on him until many long minutes later when her sobs had faded into weak shuddering and her tears had run out. And then he kept an arm around her shoulder, and she an arm around his waist, and they made their way slowly and quietly back into the castle together. 

She woke before the sun the next morning. The horizon through the window was purpling, heralding the first moments of dawn. Turning over on her makeshift bed, she watched her father sleeping peacefully. He looked well, and her heart was happy. She knew she couldn’t sleep any longer, so she rose silently, throwing a heavy cape around her shoulders to ward off the morning chill, and made her way downstairs to the courtyard. 

The castle slept. She could hear the humming of the chickens in their low wooden house, the faint nickering of the horses in the stables. But no humans stirred. There was birdsong from the trees beyond the castle walls and her breath fogged faintly in the cool air. She pulled her cloak a little tighter around her arms, a peaceful smile spreading across her face. Her footsteps carried her toward the stables. Perhaps today she’d go for a ride in the country. It had been ages, she felt, since she’d ridden for the fun of it. She’d missed her horse. 

The air in the stables was balmy, warmed by the bodies and breath of the horses. Her eyes fell on her horse’s stall and she blinked, confused. It was empty. She scanned the length of the stables, making sure he hadn’t been merely put into a different stall. But no. He was nowhere to be seen. Then she heard a voice, a woman’s voice, coming from outside the stables, and the sound of water pouring into a trough. 

“Now that’s a good boy, aren’t you, Ballisto? Yes, you are.”

Lena approached the stable door curiously, stopping at the threshold. There was her horse, Ballisto, his coat glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as though he’d been taken for miles at a steady canter. He drank deeply from the trough and a woman stood beside him, her back to Lena, clapping her hand firmly against his flank the way Lena knew he liked. 

“I'd say that was one of the better runs we've had, eh?” she was saying. “Not a body alive could catch you even if they wanted to.”

Ballisto lifted his head and the woman pressed her hands on either side of his rounded jaw, kissing his muzzle. Lena covered her mouth to hide her smile. 

“Well done, you,” the woman said, her tone sweet and low as if she were speaking to a baby. “Well done, you good, fast boy.”

She reached into a feed bag slung across her shoulder, pulling out an apple and holding it up to him on a flattened palm. He chomped it up eagerly, and the woman laughed and gave him another. 

“You earned it, Bally. Good treats for a good boy.”

“Careful,” said Lena. “He’ll clean you out of all the apples you've got if you let him.”

The woman spun, clearly startled, and her surprise went to panic as she saw Lena. She immediately dropped to one knee, bowing her head. 

“Your Highness, my apologies, I-I didn't see you there.”

“Please,” Lena said, wishing she hadn't spoken and ruined such a lovely moment. “Don't, you needn't bow like that.” 

The woman stood back up, rubbing her neck a little bashfully. 

“Apologies, princess. I...I'm not sure I want to know, but you haven't been standing there long have you?”

Lena pulled her lips in, dipping her head as she tried not to smile. “Only long enough to learn that you love my horse just as much as I do.”

A blush rose in the woman’s cheeks but she laughed, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly. 

“I'm sorry you had to see that.”

“Not at all, it was a pleasure,” Lena returned, and she meant it. The woman glanced up at her and Lena winked. “Don't worry, what happened here will never reach another soul.”

The woman sighed deeply, placing her hand over her heart in faux gratitude, but not unkindly.

“You have my thanks, your Highness.”

They smiled at each other for a long moment. The woman had a radiant smile, and eyes to match. She was a handsome woman, and the light sweat and dirt on her brow and the messiness of her braided hair somehow only served to enhance her already lovely features. Lena knew her; she'd been a stablehand here for years, but, with a wave of embarrassment, Lena realized she didn't even know her name. 

“Forgive my ignorance,” Lena said. “What are you called?”

“Oh,” the woman said, seemingly surprised at the question. She bowed again, this time only slightly. “My name is Kara Danvers.”

Lena's eyebrows lifted. “Danvers? Any relation to Alexandra Danvers of the King’s Guard?”

Kara smiled, nodding. “She's my sister.”

“Your sister?” Lena said, surprised. “Surely you should be serving as a squire, then, if not a knight already?”

Lena immediately regretted her words as the light suddenly left Kara’s eyes and she pressed her lips together in a sad smile. It was like watching the sun go behind the clouds. 

“I'm afraid my blood precludes me from being anything more than a stablemaster, your Highness. I'm...a bastard. Not a true Danvers.” She shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of her sudden malaise, and gestured to the stables. “But the king, in his generosity, allowed me to work here. For that I'll always be grateful.”

Lena felt a swell of love for her father. His mercy had likely saved Kara from becoming an outcast in the kingdom. Though, as Lena regarded Kara for a long moment, she couldn't help but feel that Kara deserved more than to be a stablemaster for the rest of her life. 

“Tell me, Kara,” Lena said, attempting to steer the conversation away from what was putting such pain in Kara’s eyes. “Do you often take the royal steeds on long runs in the mornings before sunrise?”

“Oh, n-no,” Kara stammered, looking over her shoulder at Ballisto. “I...I only thought he could use the exercise. And I was having a hard time sleeping myself.”

Lena smiled, nodding. “I'm sure he was in need of a ride.”

Kara visibly relaxed at Lena’s approval. She smiled and shifted a little closer to Ballisto, running her hand down his neck. “And truth be told, your Highness, he is a magnificent beast, possibly one of the best I've ever had the good fortune to ride.”

Lena stepped closer to Kara, reaching across her body to pull another apple from her bag. There was an abrupt tension in Kara, as if, at Lena’s closeness, she had taken a sudden breath and held it. Lena thought that perhaps Kara had never been so close to a member of the royal family before. Or perhaps Lena had gotten too close, too suddenly, been too familiar as she leaned across Kara. She felt Kara’s eyes on her and the tension was there in her chest too, and she couldn’t place the cause of it. She kept her attention pointedly on Ballisto, watching as he ate the fruit from her palm. 

“Maybe it's because I've had him since he was a colt and I have a significant bias, but I think I'd have to agree with you,” Lena said. “He is the most magnificent creature.”

“Yes,” Kara said softly. “He is.” 

Lena looked up at her, and for a moment their eyes met. The rising sun cast light on Kara’s face, making the blue of her eyes shine. There was a softness to her expression, to her slightly parted lips, as though she were inhaling quietly, the smallest of smiles pulling at the corners of her mouth. The sun in the wisps of her hair gave her a faerie light. Lena felt her heart pounding harder than usual and she glanced away, running her hands down Ballisto’s muzzle. 

“May I ask something, your Highness?” Kara asked after a pause.

“Of course,” Lena said, not looking up at her. 

“Is it true, what I’ve heard? Is the king’s health improving?”

Lena forgot her beating heart for a moment, a smile splitting across her face. She nodded, looking over at Kara. 

“It is. It seems he’s past the worst of it.”

Kara’s smile was wide at that, genuine joy breaking through. “I’m so glad to hear it.” She nodded, looking away, seeming to be hardly able to contain her happiness as she patted Ballisto’s back absently. “He’s a good man, a good king.”

“Yes,” Lena said, watching Kara’s face and feeling her joy match with Kara’s radiant smile. “He is.”

Lena had supper in the great hall that night with her father. It was the first meal she’d taken outside his room since his illness. It gave her great joy to see him sitting in his impressive chair again, talking and eating like his old self. He walked with her back to the living chambers after the meal, stopping outside her room. She looked at the door quizzically, and then back to him. 

“Father, I told you, I’m not sleeping in my own room until you’re well.”

“Lena, my love,” he said, taking her two hands in his. “Look at me. I am well. I’ve never felt better.”

She lifted her eyebrows at him, scanning his face for falseness. He fixed her with a stern look. 

“Listen to your father, now, princess. I don’t imagine you’ve had a single good night’s sleep on that pile of blankets you’ve been calling a bed. I’ve had all your belongings brought back to your room. It’s time you got some proper rest.”

Lena hesitated, but she couldn’t deny that the prospect of sleeping on her own mattress, in her own familiar room, sounded extremely enticing. Her father seemed to read her thoughts and he kissed her forehead. 

“Get some rest, my darling. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She didn’t protest, instead hugging him around the neck and kissing his cheek.

“Goodnight, father.”

Her chambers were quiet as she closed the door behind her. She leaned against the wood, taking a deep breath, feeling herself relax. There was something about familiar solitude that always put her at ease. A sudden tiredness fell over her and she realized that her father had been right - she’d not slept nearly enough while she had kept watch at his bedside. She climbed into her bed, snuggling down under the warm, heavy blankets, and only a few minutes passed before she had fallen deeply asleep. 

She dreamed of standing at the edge of a lake. Night had fallen; only the moon hanging in the reflection of the water provided any light. The sound of hoofbeats shook the ground, seeming to come from every direction, but she saw no one, no movement anywhere. She knelt to drink, dipping her hand into the water, but her cupped palm came up empty. She tried again and again to drink, becoming more desperate with each attempt, but to no avail. The hoofbeats grew louder. 

BANG.

Lena jolted upright with a gasp, panting heavily and shaking, feeling deeply unsettled by her dream. One of her windows had blown open, the pane rapping loudly against the stone wall. She climbed out of bed, crossing the room and shutting it against the sudden gale that had sprung up outside. The wind howled over the walls of the castle. The sky was cloudy and moonless. There was a weight in the air, pressing down on Lena’s shoulders. She felt as though the darkness was watching, waiting to trample her. 

_ It was only a dream _ . 

But she couldn’t shake the awful dread that sat like iron in her chest. There was a sudden cry in the hallway outside, a keening, echoing sound. A lamentation. It sent ice into her veins. And somehow, without realizing it, without wanting to, Lena knew. 

She pushed open her door, stumbling into the corridor. She caught herself on the wall, stood still, listening, her heart awake and flying against her ribs like a trapped bird. It came again, the wail, the sobbing cry of anguish. Followed by more voices, heavy doors opening and closing, the sound echoing like hoofbeats. 

She flew, then, racing her heart, chased by shadows and the screaming wind, turning down the halls with practiced speed. Not fast enough. Never fast enough. She nearly collided with Guardian Danvers coming down the hall to find her. Danvers tried to speak, she tried to say it, but Lena wouldn’t hear her. Her father’s chamber doors were open, candlelight flickering drunkenly inside. She went inside as though pushed, stopping suddenly as she saw the people gathered around her father’s bed. Her mother sat, tearstained and wailing, at his feet. Lena wished for silence, for any other sound. She couldn’t find the air to breathe. She didn’t feel the tears that slipped down her cheeks, but they blurred her vision. She stumbled forward, whispering something, gasping it out. The bodies parted with bowed heads. 

She saw her father. His shell. She stared, watching his chest as she had done every night for weeks hence. She wanted to scream at it to rise. But she’d left him. She’d abandoned her watch. And it was too late. 

She stumbled forward, sobbing something she couldn’t hear, collapsing, gripping the front of his shirt. Begging, begging, begging.

You promised, she told him. You promised not to leave me.  

Her cries woke the rest of the castle. Had the wind not howled so loudly, the whole of the kingdom might have heard her. But the king was deaf to her voice. He had no reply.

 

* * *

 

Dawn’s shadows. A barren chamber. 

“It is finished at last?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Our patience was beginning to run out.”

A snarl. “He put up more of a fight than expected.”

“Of course, I only meant…”

“Enough. Tell your king: the plan is set in motion. It is time.”


End file.
